


Twenty Weeks

by mightyfinebear



Series: The Sexcel Chronicles [2]
Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Broken Hearts, F/M, Mentions of miscarriage, Multi, Mutual Pining, a lot more tenderness, a messy and dark "love" story, hella angst, lets not start these tags with lies, more lying, more mess, probably sex, probably some preggers fooling around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyfinebear/pseuds/mightyfinebear
Summary: After her first sonogram Ethan and April find out that she's twenty weeks along. But she should be 24.
Relationships: Chexton - Relationship, Crockett Marcel/April Sexton, Ethan Choi/April Sexton, sexcel
Series: The Sexcel Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569223
Comments: 19
Kudos: 18





	1. Twenty Weeks

The frame narrowly misses April’s head as it breaks against the floor. He hadn’t intended it to hit her. But he didn’t care if it did either. Rage, overwhelming rage. He keeps screaming at her, asking her the same question.

“Who was it?!”

It’s the size, the measurement. Not immediately alarming considering it isn’t April’s first. She shows sooner because of the last pregnancy. The one Ethan never asked about. The one that allowed him to not question her. To tip-toe around the thought that’d formed in the back of his head after their sonogram, the one he was screaming at her. She’s supposed to be 24 weeks, she’s 20. 

April continues to be silent. She doesn’t know why she feels the need to protect him. Maybe she’s protecting herself. From the eyes, the impropriety, the judgment from their colleagues. The violence that’d he bestow upon Crockett. She just sits, her arms tightly held across her chest resting on her swollen stomach. She barely flinches when the frame breaks next to her. She’s been numb for weeks. The life moving inside her a constant reminder, a painful one. She doesn’t want this.

The only one who does is Ethan. Crockett is a ghost. He’s back on nights. He told her she’d miss  _ this _ , them. But it was him. He kept his distance until Ethan reached out. He’d been too judgmental, too cold. Noah and April had warmed to Crockett so it was time he do the same. Friends. They’d become it. April and Crockett wore their masks well, bespoke. He noticed her stomach before anyone else. He knew every inch of her body, his memory perfection. It had to be. He hadn’t been alone with her in nine and a half weeks, 50 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds. There were others, there were always others. But they weren’t her.

His mask barely held in place when April declined a beer and Noah excitedly inquired. Ethan beamed, April matched it. A careful observation could see otherwise, and Crockett observed it.

It was matched in his tone.

“Congratulations, Nurse Sexton.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. Noah called for something more appropriate, Ethan stuck with beer, Crockett got bourbon. He lifted it to the couple, to her. Prick. She got up to use the restroom.

Nine and a half weeks, 50 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds. Until now.

“April?”

He stood in the hallway, outside the restroom. A good excuse, there was only the single unisex one.

“Not here.”

Not here, not there, not at work, not a home. He would never see her. His chin quivered with anger. Sadness. He moved past her to “use” the bathroom. 

The next nine weeks were a tour-de-force of performance. Often April could opt out, feigning exhaustion in her delicate condition. She couldn’t stomach the stories of the “others” Crockett would casually allude to. Ethan and Noah laughing and musing in male camaraderie as the subject tested April’s mask. Maybe he wanted to hurt her. The way she was hurting him. 

But in nine weeks from that moment she found herself here. Arms folded tightly as Ethan continued to yell and throw things, to bargain, to try and reason with how she was only 20 weeks.

“Answer me!”

She got up and began packing. Ethan followed.

“Amniocentesis, I need to know April!”

The tears were streaming down his face. No delineation between anger or sadness. She hadn’t denied nor confirmed anything. Her silence was damning enough as was her lack of shock at the announcement from her OB/GYN. Guilt was her only answer. 

She packed the bag and carefully stepped over the broken pieces Ethan had thrown around, the pieces of their relationship. Still silent. 


	2. Twenty-Eight Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan twists, April's quiet, Marcel pretends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The non-con insinuation is because of some review I read which kind of alluded to Crockett putting something in April's drink the night of their near-kiss. *eye-roll*

He’d given her a soft ultimatum before he left, “figure out what you want…” there wasn’t an “or else” but maybe there should’ve been. They’d fought in the past but cooler heads always prevailed. She was excited to see him when he’d returned, they’d reaffirmed their love to one another and a week later they had found out they were pregnant. She was pregnant. There was no they, not anymore. Ethan had been written into a play he hadn’t received a script for.The potential of fatherhood had consumed him so. The goal aimed for the future, as it sacrificed control of his present. And Ethan had absolutely no idea why. And he’d stopped asking. She would just go quiet, silent tears fell down her face. He’d began angry, throwing things, but then her silence scared him. 

“Did someone do this to you? Did someone hurt you?”

Nothing. He begged her to tell him the truth, he was no closer to it than the day of the sonogram.

“Amniocentesis can tell us if the baby is mine...I don’t know... but you have to let me go April, please at least give me this.”

“I-I can’t, I know the risk is minimal, but I can’t do anything that might harm the baby.”

So she would elect the way of torture. He’d stormed out of the break room as a confused Noah was walking in. No one would include the little brother on what was going on. When April wasn’t silent, she was telling him to leave it alone, Ethan always told him to ask April.

So he confided in Crockett. Crockett who had to increasingly rely on banana bags to “sober him up” for shifts, regardless of the time. Crockett is somewhat dismissive. He gives southern anecdotes of laissez faire and que sera, he tells Noah they are adults and to let them handle it.

But Noah persists. He tries to casually ask at work and she answers.

“Not now.”

So he waited a couple of weeks after that. Until a more casual approach could be gained. An errand.

He retrieved a heavy box of hers, the last of her potential life at Ethan’s.

“Nope, I got it!” 

Noah flinches back and twirls around her, he takes the large box to the back. He meanders, he’s stalling. He’s giving her that look again.

“Don’t.”

“But you guys were so happy, talking marriage, and babies...I mean you’re halfway there,” he points toward April’s stomach.

Her eyes dart, after a beat his grow large. He’s putting it together.

“Naw...for real?”

She looks even sadder than a moment before.

“Just, drop it Noah.”

Her tone is stern, her eyes are filled with tears. Noah is shaking his head in disbelief. A different woman would have aborted the baby, a different woman might have come up with a series of lies. Of excuses. Another woman would’ve done this. Not April, but she wasn’t supposed to be the kind of woman to cheat, to lie. Maybe she hadn’t. Noah’s never seen her this desolate, not even when she fell apart in his arms over her miscarriage. She’s not herself, _ this _ could do that? His mind starts to go the same place Ethan’s has.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but she just...she seems, broken,” Noah grabs a handful of fries from his plate.

He’s eating lunch with Ethan and Crockett, Crockett who is up and flirting with someone at the bar.

“That would make the two of us.”

Ethan’s hard on the outside, he lets his anger fuel his days, his work, his ability to get up in the morning. Inside he just feels gutted; empty. 

He watches Crockett get her number. Crockett can read their faces before he takes a seat.

“I didn’t realize the decision to eat french fries or chicken would be this deep.”

He smirks, lightening the mood, his own hanging by a thread. He never knows if or when the other shoe will drop. If Ethan will ever know what he was doing with her for those six weeks.

“What if it wasn’t consensual…?” Noah asks.

Disgust flashes for an instance across Marcel’s face.

“Did-did she say that?” he asked.

He makes sure to do it casually as he butters a roll. Their problem has to read as fleeting for him. It’s the first time he’s even attempted to comment on their break-up, the messy details which become even messier with this insinuation.

“She doesn’t say anything,” Ethan grumbled.

His fork lies idle while he stares at Crockett. He’s no idiot. Crockett’s was the first face who flew into his head when the sonogram read 20 weeks. April worked well with every doctor at the hospital, but there was something else with Marcel, the way he looks at her when he thinks no one sees, and a quiet conversation between the two after Noah’s surgery. One he never could get out of his head. He’d been testing them for weeks after the surgery and more so when he got back. They’d passed, he decided. By the time he realized the baby probably wasn’t his he’d let go of that bone. Maybe too quickly. 

“Something on your mind?” 

Crockett asks as he can feel Ethan’s eyes on him.

“Nothing,” he answers with a half-smile; it never reaches his eyes.

Everything needed to be consumed is not served at this table. 


	3. Thirty-Eight Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan finally learns the truth.

There isn’t enough bourbon to numb the hole she’s left. Not enough “others” to get under so he can get over her. Work is exhausting. He can barely concentrate when he sees her, her growing tummy, and their last encounter;

“What are you doing here?”

Crockett is unnerved, she is breaking the rules coming to his house. It’s daytime which means Ethan is probably on shift and she isn’t. But you can never be too careful. Crockett won’t invite her in. A buttery voice comes up behind him.

"You coming back baby?”

She’s dressed, but it’s haphazard, as if she was in the middle of taking something off or quickly putting something on. She meets eyes with April, her eyebrow raises at the sight of the heavily pregnant woman.

April’s jaw tightens and she just nods, before backing away. 

Everything left in him dies, he is disappointment, he is heartbreak, he is the father of that baby. She wouldn’t tell him either. She doesn't need to. He wanted her, not the baby. She knew, he knew. Yet he remained away. That was all she needed to know. _You don’t want this._

He wants to take off down the hall after her. His feet are heavier than he'd like. He stops, he lets her go. _You don’t want this._

The dance she, Ethan, and Crockett perform is complex. April is avoiding both of them, Ethan is trying to avoid April, and Crockett is trying to avoid Ethan while making it seem like he isn’t. There are only so many shifts and so many weeks.

“You’re already dilated two centimeters, have you had any contractions?”

Her OB/GYN is disposing of her gloves as she helps April sit up.

“I assumed it was just Braxton Hicks.”

Doctor Lee nods,

“It could be, but you are in a window to go at any point so you may want to slow down, no traveling for more than an hour.”

Slow down to what? As if relaxing was even an option. Nothing like slowing down to watch your life fall apart in better detail. No, work was what April did, it was who she was. She realized it before with Tate, but even more so now. The early menopause a hidden revelation. A freedom. April was mother to the ED, her friends, her family, to her patients. There was no hole to be filled by natural motherhood. 

She and Ethan were always going to be doomed. She really didn’t want this. Something else to make someone else happy, now no one is.

She waddles down the hall to take the elevator back down to the ED. A restored Maggie fills the vacancy in the Hybrid OR. She doesn’t have to work with Crockett anymore. Everyone knows yet, they don’t. Somethings are too much to ask in passing so no one does. Not even Doris.

The doors blow open. A car crash,two injured, a homeless man clearly wounded. She hears the page for Ethan, for Crockett, they can’t avoid each other forever. Just as April is ready to spring into action, water springs from her. A small puddle under her feet. _"You could go any day alright"_. Monique’s face lights up.

“Go, they need your help, I know where I’m going.”

Monique tells her she is coming up as soon as she can. April gives her a quick pat before pulling off her sweater and wrapping it around her waist. Bless her. She doesn’t want to do this alone. She’s up one floor before the doors open. Crockett and Ethan awaiting the other side. 

“I’m going up-."

"-We'll get the next one-," Crockett answers.

"-It's fine," Ethan states.

He walks in, they are both coming, a strange game of chicken. Crockett has to get on, to pretend nothing is wrong, and Ethan wants the chance to see them together again, to know. April presses her finger hard to the maternity ward number, Crockett hits the main level. A clunk, follows an electronic crescendo. The elevator is stopped.

Panic isn’t the first feeling it’s denial. April presses the button like a woodpecker.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work.”

Ethan’s voice comes from the back of the elevator. Crockett is on the phone letting them know they are stuck. 

"How long?!..there are patients downstairs who are need of help, maybe surgery, do they have to wait an hour too?” 

Crockett is annoyed but more than that he’s nervous. He can feel Ethan’s eyes. Watching him work to not look at her. He has to play it cool. He slides down the side of the elevator doors, his back to its middle. Ethan is standing, leaning with his hands in his pockets, April has a hand under her massive stomach, looking at the wall. 

An hour passes, then a half hour, then another. April is still standing, she’s strong, she has to be. Her hand grips the bar ever so often, a casual reminder she’s in labor. Ethan is sitting, stoic. 

“How far are they?”

Ethan finally asks.

“They said they’d have us out an hour ago, I don’t know what is going on,” Crockett replies.

“No, April,-”

Her head snaps down to Ethan.

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“Every 15 minutes,” Crockett answers.

Surprise hits Ethan, is this an artifact? Proof?

“I have ears too,” Crockett offers.

Just not a heart. April thinks to herself. 

“I’m fine,” she answers. 

She won’t look at either of them. Crockett’s phone rings. It’s going to be at least another hour. Do they know they are needed on the floor of the ED, do you they know there is a woman in active labor stuck in the elevator? His voice is loud, he wants out, they all want out. They are trying their best, they aren’t the only ones stuck. 

At the two and a half hour mark April wishes she were in actual hell, it’d be more pleasant than fighting back tears as she's stuck between these two. As her contractions are lasting longer and she can’t quite hide her pain.

“You should sit,” Ethan finally says.

“It’s better for me to sta-nd,” she’s in the middle of a tough one.

“How far are they now?”

“Still 15, but they’re stronger aren’t they?” He’s answering for her again.

April is looking up at the light, hoping to not give anything else away, they don’t need to know, to hurt more, to not care. She whimpers as the next seems to hold its intensity longer than the one before. Her eyes press close, her knees begin to buckle.

“This is stupid,” Ethan announces as he stands up.

He walks to April’s side and without offering she leans on him. It helps, her upper thighs feel numb as pain shoots through them. She’s been trying to breathe through it but it’s getting harder. Crockett paces, still keeping his eye on his phone, timing April’s contractions.

“I still don’t understand...what happened to us,” Ethan whispers.

April knows the real question, the why. Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the fact that time has run out and the baby is almost here.

“The morning you left I wasn’t at the gym, I went to the doctor’s office. She told me I’m perimenopausal...I didn’t think this could happen.”

She sinks into him more, a weight lifted, now it weighs him.

“Did you...want this to happen?” Ethan asked.

Crockett was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t a part of the conversation. It all made sense. The drinking, the hopelessness. 

“I told you I didn’t think-mmm,” she began before another contraction stopped her.

“-He means did you do this willingly?”

Crockett had been flipping his phone in his hand before he could feel April’s eyes on him. Her teeth clenched in pain. Still not answering. He scoffs at her silence. Careful.

“That contraction lasted for almost a minute and you’re in the middle of your next, are we just going to sit and pretend like you aren’t going to give birth in here?” Crockett snapped.

He looks annoyed, worried but annoyed.

“You’re going to have to let one of us check.”

Crockett looks to Ethan who is further away than anyone right now. His observation falters as he’s trying to piece her response, their end. 

The pain revs up, April can’t help it, she starts to whimper before a deep groan leaves her mouth. Her knees buckle and Crockett is quickly over to her, pulling her up and off the wall. He and Ethan lower her slowly to the floor. He is pulling at her pants before she hands him a bottle of antibacterial hand salve. He works quickly, this isn’t how he thought he’d touch her again, his memory picture perfect as he slides his fingers in, pretending he’s trying to figure out just where her cervix is, he could draw it. 

“You’re 8.5 almost 9.”

“Noooo,” she groans, “Not here, not like this.” 

“Answer the last question.” 

Ethan had been quiet, trying his best to hold it together and not yell at her.

Crockett stared at her and then at Ethan. She began to open her mouth, but she’s groaning in pain again. Crockett is back on the phone. 

“We don’t have another hour, pry these damn doors open now!”

Without noticing, without intending their hands are intertwined. Like the old days, the days when they would leave work together, when they would cuddle on the couch, when they’d fall asleep after making love.

Ethan lets it comfort him, he always saw it this way, him by her side as she gave birth. It’s hard to tell where one contraction begins and the other ends. It’s just endless pain. Her scream startles them.

“Just take a deep breath.”

“Don’t you dare say that to me.”

She seethes through her teeth at Crockett. 

“Please tell me the truth,” Ethan whispers.

“We had sex after you left.”

She’s glaring at Crockett.

“Who?”

She’s writhing in pain now.

“April, I need to know.”

She groans as it turns into a scream. Her back arching against his chest. Ethan pulls her close. Repostions his legs, the ground is cold, but it isn’t the temperature. It’s wet, it’s blood.

“Damn it she is hemorrhaging.”

Crockett doesn’t have to mask his fear, not when they both feel it. Ethan pulls her closer.

"Who is 'we' April?!"

She screams again, another gush of blood. It rushes towards Crocketts shins.

"April!?"

"US GODDAMNIT!"

Crockett’s proclamation comes just as the doors are beginning to open. Monique is on the outside, she has everything ready to go. Someone had to have April’s back. Her face falls when she sees the amount of blood on the floor. April is whimpering, barely conscious. 

Crockett paces outside the OR, Ethan’s head is in his hands. Noah emerges moments later.

“I’ve got a nephew!”

He’s all smiles and elation.

“April?”

Crockett doesn’t bother to hide the urgency.

“She lost a lot of blood but she’s okay.”

Ethan follows Noah into the ward. The baby is wrapped tightly, asleep, he doesn’t look of Ethan, or Crockett, he looks like April. 

Noah is snapping pictures and talking to his mom on the phone. She’s on her way to see her first grandchild. 

As quickly as Ethan is in her room he is back out in the hallway. He doesn’t notice it until it’s too late. Till the wind is knocked out of him. Ethan has his forearm under Crockett’s throat.

“If this were any other place I'd kill you."

Crockett doesn't say anything.

"You let me talk about her. You...this whole time, _you_."

The others pop into Ethan's head. He lets his restraint over Crockett end.

"Do you even care about her?"

Crockett nods,

"Yeah."

Ethan's gives a tight nod. His eyes are back to confusion, hurt.

"Do you think she loves you?"

"I know she does."

Crockett doesn't hold his shame at the answer. To be loved by her is all he has left of what they were.

"Then you both can go to hell."

Noah stands outside the doorway. Mouth agape. 

...

“You should meet your son.”


End file.
